Episode Twenty One:
Coup de Grâce, Deuxième Partie

<< Previous | Contents | Next >>

     Océane hugged herself tightly as she regained her composure, hoping to not draw any attention from the other passengers on the bus she had lured Pierre into. It was taking all her concentration to maintain the nightmare and try to distance herself from Pierre’s thoughts, and even more importantly, his emotions. Tears of pain and sadness rolled down her face, contrasting with the wicked grin.
     With the greatest of determination she stood up and pulled the bell cord for the next stop. Raising her palms to chest level, she gritted her teeth, and whispered through her still smiling lips, “This nightmare will end!”
~~~~~~~~~~
     Before Pierre’s eyes, the young boy sitting in the corner suddenly stiffened.  In a flash he turned into transparent glass and shattered.  But the shards did not fall more than a couple centimetres before they flew through the air in a stream towards the front of the train car. There they spun horizontally in the shape of a narrow tube.  Suddenly the pieces fused together into a long rod and rested in the hands of a dark silhouette that brightened to reveal the golden haired, frost clad angel.
     “Found you!” The angel smiled as a scythe blade erupted out of the end of the crystal rod. She spun as a dervish would and glowed with sacred fire. She slowed her twirling rushed forward.
    The paralysis that had gripped Pierre released and he scrambled away from her. He tripped, avoiding imminent decapitation and fell against the dark wall. He felt the wall stretch then snap.  The entire structure he had been inside popped like a bubble and he found himself one again on the dark, featureless street of the strange city.
     He did not have long to observe his surroundings as once again her heard the small feet of his attacker patter on the ground. He leapt forward, rolled and ran down the hill.
~~~~~~~~~~
     'I can’t keep up with him.' Océane groaned. She looked at her shoulder. 'Or maybe… I can!'
     She placed her scythe blade against her shoulder and pulled forward, slicing her arm cleanly off. Her removed limb hit the ground stiffly and turned the color of molasses as it disintegrated into a puddle. The slimy substance then rose up in a twisted column and her shoulder stub leaked more of the strange fluid, joining with the puddle. She rolled her shoulder and flung her body forward causing the dark brown substance to fly towards Pierre like an unrolling carpet as it remained tethered to her shoulder. The brown slime split into four dark streams cruising in the air far above where the terrified man ran. Lines joined the four streams creating what looked like a slice of a spider web. Finally Océane rolled her shoulder viciously downwards. Her movement rand down the four intertwined strings, launching their tips downwards to Pierre, growing rapidly longer and larger.
     As Océane wanted, they did not reach him, instead, like living eels connected by slimy, horizontal ropes of flesh, they hit the ground and slithered as if dancing through water. They wove around light posts, mailboxes, and buildings, leaping and ducking over one another, continuing to grow towards their target.
     Pierre was not even looking where he was going when he ran into a wall.  He found himself trapped in a dead end, surround by merciless black walls and a red sky above.  He turned around to see that the way he came was blocked by the web-creature, it’s dripping brown mass raising its four “heads” as if they were conjoined cobras, ready to strike. His desperate eyes roved around, hoping that like before, there was some way out of this bizarre world. He wanted to plead, 'I don’t want to die!' But then he thought, 'But… am I already dead?  Is this what hell is like?' Tears streamed down his face as he collapse to his knees.
     'Papa… Why did you give up and leave me?  I’m scared…'
     He winced as the monster in front of him lurched forward a few metres. He saw its tail whip over its head and land in front of him, angel in tow. The creature shrunk into a small, tangled net draped around the angel’s feet, staining her pure white dress turning the hem and right side of the gown the colour of old blood as it writhed and wiggled from her severed shoulder.
     The angel raised her crystal scythe and leaned it against her left shoulder casually.  Her lips opened revealing beautiful, perfect teeth as she grinned at him. “So, Pierre, are you ready to accept your first, of many deaths to come?”
     “Please, have mercy!” he wept, not even willing to raise his face from the dirt.
     A knot tightened itself in Océane’s stomach as she frowned. 'This is not sweet… I hate this man, but I hate myself more for thinking I could relish this sight.' She looked away as she lowered the blade of her frozen scythe to the man’s neck.  The man whimpered pitifully at the touch.
     “Before I kill you once, I have two questions that I have been wanting answered; first, did you defile that woman before, or after you killed her?”
    Pierre’s eyes widened in terrified revulsion.  What is she saying!?  It… “It was an accident!”
     Océane ignored him and continued, “And secondly, were you, or were you not aware of the small child that witnessed you murdering his mother?”
     “A-a--, a child? A child!” Pierre’s face was pure disbelief.  He ran through his memory of the event, but it was mostly clouded with the effects of the copious amounts of alcohol he had drunk that night. All he could remember was the ribbon of red that ran from the heart of a beautiful body. For one of the few times in his life, he tried to see what had happened through another pair of eyes. What he saw, unleashed the long buried guilt of his actions. Pierre felt the pressure of the blade against his neck press harder. “No! Please!” he screamed. “I killed a woman, I really did, I took everything away from that child! But please, have mercy on me!”
     He dared to look up at the face of the angel but instead found himself looking in the eyes of a police officer as she backed away from the prostrate man. He felt his arms tugged from behind and cuffs secured his wrists. He looked at the inside of the police station where he now found himself. He smiled as tears rolled down his face, happy to be alive and in such a warm and kind world compared to the one he had been torn into.
     Lieutenant Porter walked over to Devareaux who now took a seat, shell-shocked. “You alright Sarah?”
     “Eh? Oui, it’s fine, it’s not every day a murderer throws himself on the ground in front of you and pleads guilty. I’m a little stunned is all.”
     Michael nodded. “It’s strange too, it was only yesterday that Océane pointed that man out as the guilty party in the cold case she was digging up.”
     “He ran through the front doors as if he was being chased by a pack of wild dogs.” Sarah explained, taking another calming breath, but the air caught in her throat. “You don’t think--, the girl did something?”
     Michael followed her gaze to the glass door absentmindedly. His mouth dropped in surprise as he could clearly make out a girl wearing the same school uniform Océane wore turning away from the station and limping down the sidewalk. 'Not a chance!'
     “Excuse me Sarah, I’m going to have to take my break now.”
     “Go for it.” She stared in wonderment as her co-worker dashed out of the door.
~~~~~~~~~~
     Océane wearily made her way back home as the sky darkened.  She had exhausted all her ability to think after the intense mental strain of maintaining someone else’s nightmare. She wanted to smile, to confirm that she had accomplished something good, but nothing felt right. However, at the moment she was far too tired and emotionally drained to reason about anything.
     She was so unaware of her surroundings, her whole focus was on putting one foot in front of the other, ignoring the important fact that the walk home was a fair distance. The first noise that brought her out of the daze was in was her own name.
      “Océane! Hey, Océane!”
     She did not even have to turn around to know it was Michael’s voice. No, he saw me! She stumbled forward as quickly as she could but only managed a hurried limp. She inwardly cursed the contraption that bound and supported her leg. However, she regretted her rude thoughts towards the inanimate object when her knee buckled and she began to topple forward.
     She was tugged back by her hand, preventing her from smacking face first into the concrete.
      “Océane!” Michael ordered as he pulled her up, “Wait!  I just want to talk.”
      Océane could not look at him. 'What can I say?'
    “Listen, you are not in trouble, I just want to know how you are involved.” Michael insisted. “You didn’t endanger yourself, did you?”
     She tried hard not to roll her eyes. 'I think “trouble” would be exactly the right word for what I would be in if he did know.'
    Michael sighed as he looked at the still turned away Océane as she regained her own balance, though he did not release her hand. “Océane, whatever you did, no one else has to know if you don’t want them to. Please, something good happened today, I just need to know why and how.”
      “C-could this wait for tomorrow?” she asked tiredly.
     "You promise?" he pressed.
     She nodded.
     The policeman sighed in relief as he released her hand, glancing around at onlookers to reassure them nothing was going on. He had no wish to coerce her to talk and was glad she agreed so easily. “Come by the station at around noon. Would you like me to drive you home?”
      At last she turned around and gently smiled with a nod.  “Oui... et merci.”
    The ride was silent and even when Océane got out in front of her family’s apartment building, she only barely whispered, “Bonsoir.”
       Michael smiled and replied.  “Are you sure you don’t need to talk now?”
     For a moment, Océane felt like she was more of a co-worker, and less of a temporary intern, a notion she shrugged off as ridiculous. “Non, Inspecteur, I’m fine. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
     She left him, and hurried up the stairway. Pausing at the door to her apartment, she readied herself when the door opened and she was met by the disapproving gaze of her mother.
     “And where have you been?” her mother demanded. “We got a call that you skipped out on school.”
     Normally Océane would panic and try to explain, but this time, she had an excuse that was well worth use. “Oh, I haven’t been up to much, just finished my free elective course, solved a cold case and spent time with the police. I will tell you all about it later, right now though, I need a nap.”
     Mrs. Lafayette’s face was reduced to a blank stare as her daughter shuffled off to her room. It did not last long though.
     “Pardon!?” she exclaimed as she marched after daughter.

<< Previous | Contents | Next >>

Episode III: Detour

<< Previous | Contents | Next >>

     Kahlen hastily packed his possessions and then made one long look at his room. His bedroom was small with a compact closet and a study desk.  It also had a wide window on the left wall next to his bed. He opened it and sat on the sill one last time. He pressed his back against one end and his feet against the other. His knees stuck up in the middle, he remembered when he could just barely touch both sides of the window, it made him smile at how much things had changed.  
     He looked down at the two stories below him. He had never been afraid of falling since there was a balcony belonging to the neighbours just his window. He would sit there and read, think, or just look at the city he loved so much. The main reason he liked Medao was that every roof was topped with a garden.  There were even patches of forest growing on some roofs towards the old city. Deer, birds, small mammals, and some not-so-small reptiles lived throughout the city.  All the roofs were connected by sky bridges in such a vast network that it was said you could live your entire life in Medao and never touch ground level. Stores, markets, and services could be found at any height, though most buildings did not exceed four stories. He liked the little place he and his father called home. It was four rooms, his bedroom, his dad’s, a wash-room, and a living area.  The house was on the top story of a large multi-home brick building which surrounded a central courtyard, typical of residential housing of that quarter of the city.  The windows offered a beautiful view of the city and the lake to the south.  He could also see the old city with domes of the important buildings surrounded by houses topped with ancient trees. Wildlife was most dense on those rooftops. The creatures had for generations never left the city, humans were everyday passers-by to them, especially since hunting was illegal within the city unless specifically warranted. The only thing which broke the city into sections was the river delta.  However many buildings and bridges straddled the canals.
     He got up from the window, stopped for one last look of the skyline, and walked away. He grabbed his bag and shut off the lights and looked again at his home.  He thought of how lonely it was being the only one here.  He shivered, for some reason he knew he would be the only one to see it again, but he did not know where such a notion came from
~~~~~~~~~~
     During his train ride to the base Kahlen sent text and recorded messages to various people explaining he was going on a trip for a month, maybe more. He also sent feeding instructions for his cat to the neighbourhood council to ensure Namien would not go hungry.
     Once he arrived at the base he made a beeline to the window overlooking the hangar and gazed down at the Yasha. She was a lot more than just a scientific leap in travel technology, she was the only hope for the empire to defeat her enemies. The Cohorans were pressing hard on the neutral zone, very soon the ceasefire would end and the empire would be plunged into war. The space-folding slipstream technology in the Yasha would be what would keep them a step ahead. But even with the Yasha, would his people be able to recover from two centuries of retreat?
    He looked at the clock on the computer monitor and decided to break his solemn thoughts and continue preparations for the trip. He had his own luggage with him in the office and he walked out into the hangar with bag in hand. He had packed light for the voyage, never being the sort of person to keep unnecessary belongings.
     Most people were still asleep as he walked into the Yasha. It still felt strange to him to now have regular given access to a new part of the base. He put his luggage in a drawer which slid out from under his bed in one of the two sleeping rooms. After doing one last inventory he exited the vessel and sat on the cold hangar floor hugging his knees. He liked to sit this way; it made him feel safe when he was unsure about something. Something was wrong, not with the Yasha itself, every diagnostic imaginable had been run and she was voyage ready.  But still a strange foreboding quiver had settled in his gut and would not let go.
     Kahlen was so deep in his thoughts he did not hear the footsteps until they were right behind him. “What are you thinking?”
     He jumped in surprise and turned to see a greying man with kind face.  He recognized him as the chief engineer.
     “I’m sorry,” the engineer said, his amber eyes showing concern, “I did not mean to surprise you.”
     “Oh it’s not your fault, I was just elsewhere.”  Kahlen assured.
    “You’re Kahlen I presume.” he extended his hand, “My name is Oren Dara, chief engineer.”
     Kahlen stood, shook his hand and bowed respectfully in the manner a youth shows respect to an elder. The gesture, much to Kahlen’s surprise, was returned.
     “I am honoured to meet you; the Yasha component is ingenious.”
     “Thank you sir, but my father and uncle did nearly all the work, it was my father’s theory and idea,” Kahlen said earnestly.
     “Yes it was,” Oren said seeming to give in, and then continued, “but it was you who found the initial flaws. It would not have been possible without you. You have proven yourself to be years ahead of the rest of us.”
     Kahlen did not have a reply.
     “I hope to have the honour of working with you for a long time to come.” Dara finished.
     “As do I sir.”
     By now people were beginning to stir and the hangar came to life.  Soon the two of them were surrounded by the buzz of voyage preparations and so after some polite conversation they said farewell and headed to their own tasks.
~~~~~~~~~~
    Preparations progressed smoothly, there was no need to rush as everything was on schedule. Kahlen, despite his initial feelings felt confident. They would be launching very soon but he felt completely at peace.
     His father leaned into the lab and beckoned him, “Kahlen, time for the ceremony.”
     The whole crew involved with the running of the Yasha Project stood in rows before the vessel. Everyone inclined their heads as an enlisted local elder, each person gave a gesture of respect to the elder in accordance with their individual sect.  Kahlen, his father and uncle grasped the thin forelock braids which were pulled back and fastened behind their necks. These braids symbolized they were part of the Yerana sect of the Ailar religion. As Yerana they accepted the newer prophesies but still held to pre-Ailar traditions. This elder had come to give Heaven's blessing to the voyage and the future of the ship. Kahlen came up beside his father and uncle. The elder walked forward, put one hand on the vessel and with the other he held one of the sacred writings. He read a few passages about Heaven's protection to those who wander, that whatever may happen He will help them find their way home. The passage was literally about a sinner's errors before returning to the Heaven's light but it was often read before a physical journey as well. The elder gave a final blessing.  This blessing was given to all vessels, that wherever they may go they shall carry their passengers safely home. At the end of the elder’s blessing a loud cheer roared three times, “R’Ojei ne Suienki!”
     After the prayer Kahlen was handed an icon of a local saint to place over a doorway within the vessel then his father, and his uncle boarded and immediately began system scans. A transparent screen was projected in front of the helm, the list of test one by one turned from orange to blue as their respective parts of the ship were proven functional.
     “All systems go. Ura out” Kahlen‘s uncle said over the communicator.
     “Hangar doors opening.” the director replied.
     Kahlen sat as co-pilot next to his father. After the hangar doors opened they were given permission to launch.  The engines fired up and the Yasha launched through the tunnel and out into the grey midday sky.  They made a great arch and then a steep incline into the clouds. Despite the great speed, the Yasha’s own gravity kept them from feeling but the slightest motion. For awhile they were inside the grey clouds until they gave way to blue sky and finally the brilliant stars of the night. Kahlen was awestruck by how many stars there were. Back on the ground he had never seen the stars because of the ever present clouds covering the planet. But now he saw millions of them covering every little space. He looked down at the schematics showing where the Yasha was in relation to the planet.  They were a small dot blinking over a dull silver sphere.
     "Woah!" Kahlen exclaimed, seeing the gas giant, Pleora, which their world Ini orbited along with her sister inhabited moon, Aida.  The gaseous behemoth had bands of violent, yellow and orange currents tracing over its surface blending at their margins.  All his life this view was hidden by his home-world's thick atmosphere, but if it was visible from the ground he knew Pleora would cover much of the sky.
     “General, requesting permission to leave orbit and prepare for seeding.”  his father said.
“Permission granted Rhora.” the director replied.
     Rhora turned to his son, “Initiate the primary engines.”
     “Yes sir,” Kahlen pressed a few buttons on the control panel in front of him, “Engines initiated, ready for acceleration.”
     Rhora steered the Yasha away from the planet and towards the edge of the solar system. The drive moved space around them at about fifteen times the speed of light until they arrived at the edge of their solar system in seven minutes and were ready to begin phase two, their home star now just a pinpoint behind them.
     The ship slowed to a halt and Rhora again contacted the base, “We have arrived at the disembarkation site, preparing to seed time-space slipstream.”
    “Message received, The generals will be waiting to congratulate you at Sepho, Godspeed.”
     “Alright Kahlen, ready the Yasha drive.”
   “Yes sir,” Kahlen hands flew over controls, “Computer is calculating route,” again he paused. There was a chirp and he finished, “route ready, estimated travel distance; 60 light-years; estimated travel time; 2 days.”
     “Wow!” Kahlen’s uncle exclaimed, “It sounds so much faster when you actually hear it.”
     “Yes,” Kahlen replied, “Moving space at over two thousand times the speed of light, it's unfathomable.”
     Kahlen then turned to his father, “The Yasha is ready to seed a slipstream and depart.”
      “Proceed,”
     Kahlen touched one final pad and a hum could be heard from the Yasha engine.  The stars before them seemed to ripple because of the gravitational force being emitted from the Yasha. Then the Yasha sped forward and the stars began to crawl by like distant landmarks when seen from a speed train.
     There was dead silence until Kahlen jumped from his seat and yelled, “We just broke the speed record!”
     His father and uncle joined the jubilation.
~~~~~~~~~~
     Several hours later, Kahlen sat with his uncle playing a board game. He was obviously winning as his uncle groaned when us nephew took out yet another of his pieces.
     His father, Zhadu, walked in and greeted them, “How is the game going?”
     “Well-,” “-Terrible,” they both replied simultaneously.
     “Kahlen, sorry to disappoint your victory but you both need to get your sleep.”
     “Yes sir, good night.” Kahlen left for the quarters. “I can beat uncle Ura tomorrow.”
~~~~~~~~~~
    Thump! Kahlen was violently thrown from his bed onto the floor. Something was wrong. He staggered out of the sleeping quarters and to the door of the bridge. It opened for him just as some inertial force pushed him forward and made him hit the floor of the bridge.  
     He shakily stood and called out, “What is happening?”
    “We have been pulled into a much stronger slipstream and are heading off course.” his uncle replied.
     “Kahlen, check our navigation.” his father ordered.
     Kahlen went to the back consol and looked. His eyes grew wide, “The readings are off the charts, the computers must be damaged. We are outside any familiar star patterns.” Kahlen looked up into his father’s grim face.
     Zhadu stared back and then turned to the controls, his fingers moving wildly. He turned around, his eyes seeming to be wet, “Son, we are going to try to slow the ship down. I need you to go into the dorm and get into one of the impact protection units.”
     Kahlen shook his head, “No dad, I’m going to stay with you.”
     Zhadu grabbed his son’s shoulders, “I promise, your uncle and I will follow as soon as we make these final adjustments which will hopefully help us escape the slipstream. I need you to stay in the protective unit, now go.”
     Kahlen made his way back to the sleeping room and pulled down a panel. Its seat flipped downwards. He climbed into it and pressed a button on the armrest. The sides of the chair seemed to inflate. It grew around his legs and body as the sides filled with a highly insulating fluid, keeping him still. Tears began to flow down his face. “Farewell dad, farewell uncle.”  It was the last thing he said before the crash.

<< Previous | Contents | Next >>

Episode Twenty:
Coup de Grâce, Premiére Partie

<< Previous | Contents | Next >>

     The evening sun sprayed golden orange hues over the bustling streets of Lyon as Pierre began his walk. He considered going home, but the night was about to begin, and there was many a secluded bar calling his name. Places where bored women go, seeking thrills to take them away from their boring lives. For a several blocks he strolled down the street and then around the corner. The noise of the city suddenly died down. He raised his eyebrow curiously at the sudden decrease in noise.  The street seemed practically empty, only a rare drunk would stagger by.
     Pierre must have been seeing things. This street, with all its pubs and bars would always be filled with the noise of laypersons casting aside their worries. All the shops seemed to be open, but where were the customers?
     Did I forget a holiday? he wondered as he shuffled forward through the empty street.  Then his heart leapt and he grinned. Tonight is not going to be a waste after all.
     There, leaning against a lamppost beside the darkest most cluttered alley, was a woman, no, girl, no more than seventeen. Her hair was pulled up, save for a brown tresses that concealed her eyes and tumbled to her small shoulders. Her body he could tell was delightfully proportioned, even her legs, which he had enjoyed imagining their appearance if her uniform skirt was cut several inches higher. Her pink lips looked youthful and lonely, explaining why she would be in an area like this.
     And the best part of this beautiful sight, was that she was alone, no one was around. Smiling his most charming Frenchman’s smile, with a hint of coy sarcasm he asked her. “Jeune fille, pourquoi êtes vous ici?”
     The girl remained silent, merely turned her head slightly, allowing her hair to tumble back and leave her graceful neck, jaw, and cheek exposed.
     Pierre raised his hand and brushed a few strands of her hair aside.  “Pourquoi ne vous cachez-vous les yeux?” He ran his fingers along the bottom of her jaw and relished the excited and nervous quiver he caused.
     He began to lean forward but his intentions were interrupted when she raised a folded piece of paper to his chest. He would have ignored it, but something made him curious about it.  So he took it, and with one more lustful glance at the base of the girl‘s neck, he unfolded the note.
     His heart skipped a beat as he lifted the final fold, displaying the woman from years ago, sitting against the brick wall, a trail of red blood spilling down from her heart.
     Not caring to look if anyone was watching Pierre snatched the girl roughly by her neck and wrist and wrenched her into the alley, slamming her back against the wall.  “Where did you get this?!” he hissed
     Finally the girl raised her head and stared at him with mocking brown eyes. “The cries of the dead, are louder than you give them credit.”
     A shiver ran down Pierre’s spine, his hand tingled and burned as if he were touching something unnatural. “Who are you?!” He demanded, shaking her.
      Suddenly he heard a snap and the girl before him turned a sickly pail, her eyes clouded over and she fell stiffly against him.  Pierre let out a gasp of horror as he let the corpse of the girl collapse to the ground.
     “How does it feel?”
    Pierre whirled around to see the same girl standing further down the alleyway, tapping a plastic pipe against her legbrace. He looked back and the corpse was gone.
     “How does it feel?” she repeated. “To extinguish a life not yet ready to depart?”  A breeze rustled the girl’s hair and the strange green light akin to St. Elmo’s fire filled the space. “You asked who I was?  I am the attorney of weary souls, here to ease their suffering. But to you, I am the executioner.” As she spoke, her hair curled and became like spun gold and her clothing transformed as her dress turned the colour and texture of winter frost. The thin, plastic pipe she had been fiddling with in one hand turned to transparent ice and lengthened and bent into a crystalline scythe.  From her back sprouted two wings made of morning dew and spider webs that shimmered like thousands of prisms, banishing the green light and replacing it with holy brilliance.
     In complete disbelief Pierre shook his head.  “I have to be dreaming.”
    Unseen to Pierre, Océane leaned against the lamppost behind him and frowned. Perhaps I overdid it, if this is going to work I need to…  She smiled again withdrew the box cutter from her sweater pocket.
     Pierre pinched his face, trying to wake himself when the “angel” before him rushed and then retreated and he felt something cold and sharp brush by his cheek.  He felt warm drops run down his face.
     “Whether you believe in God or not, I trust even you know what the touch of a blade feels like.” The angel grinned.
     Pierre shuddered a moment, then ran. Océane smiled and dropped the box-cutter. From where she stood outside the alley she commanded her illusionary angel to pursue the man as she began to set up the next scenario of torment inside his mind.
     Panting heavily, Pierre fled at a full sprint. His eyes swerving and sifting through the confused throngs of people as he ploughed onwards. Just when he thought he lost her the angel was once again in front of him. He dodged just in time to avoid a low uppercut swipe of the icy scythe that left a thin cut in the side-walk where he had been standing. He spun around, just missing a light post that he placed between himself and the girl’s next attack. Her scythe was a shimmering blur and Pierre watched in terror as the light pole that had so briefly granted him shelter toppled, having been cut cleanly in three places.
     The angel looked up at Pierre with one sapphire eye, the other hidden by her luxurious blond tresses, not a single drop of sweat on her porcelain skin. The man found himself unable look away. In that moment of hesitation the girl’s eye turned black and out of the void spewed dark threads that grew into leaf-like hands on noodle arms that grasped and wrapped around Pierre, then dragged him into the black maw of her void.
     Pierre tumbled out of the darkness and looked up at a red sky with scattered clouds the colour of old blood. With a thump he landed on the damp cobble stone, his body strangely not crumpled. He looked around and found himself in the midst of a city, but unlike Lyon, the buildings were all black and windowless, contrasting against the red sky and complementing the smile of the inky crescent moon.
     The skeletal shadows of spider’s webs cast themselves over where the man stood.  He looked up and at the top of one of the featureless black buildings stood the silhouette of the avenging angel.
     For several moments there was silence, nothing was happening. Just him, standing in a hellish Lyon staring up at the disdainful eyes of an angel, then he felt the earth tremble, and all around the empty cobblestone streets, black forms began to rise from the ground.  They had no uniform shape, but every now and then, Pierre could spot what looked like an arm, a leg, or a head appear at various positions of their form. In unison all of them turned their “heads” towards him.
     He bolted, running like he had never before, knowing that at any moment one of those black forms would snatch at him. Dashing down the street he ran down a hill only to see another group of formless beings.  They were grappling with each other until gradually they devoured one another and grew into ever larger amorphous forms. This time fully formed arms grew out of their membranes and pulled black scythe blades from their “mouths”. One of these creatures with two heads and three scythe wielding arms leapt towards him, spinning like a frenzied dervish, the blades obliterating buildings and light posts.
He froze, unable to move.  He thought numbly about what it would feel like being sliced to pieces. He hoped it would be too fast to feel a thing. The blob approached, but instead of scythe blades touching him, the belly of the thing opened its maw and he was swallowed into blackness.
~~~~~~~~~~
Outside of the nightmare, Océane leaned wearily against a lamp post as she followed the hysteric Pierre. She looked at the bystanders. To her relief most of them were intent on ignoring him, probably assuming he was just a man who had a bit too much of something.
This is much easier. With the world stripped down to such a basic outline, there are not as many potential inconsistencies to worry about. But I need to hurry! I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.
~~~~~~~~~~
     Darkness, even when Pierre opened his eyes, there was only darkness. But then he saw thin streams of light blink. He realised then that he was covering his face with his hands.  Her raised his head and looked around. He was sitting on a soft bench, with a metal hand rail right next to him. He seemed to be inside a bus or a train, and all the interior was black and brown. A strange, piercing bright light shown through the windows behind the opposite bench. The light was blinking rapidly, as if it was being blocked by buildings or poles then becoming visible again. The vehicle must have entered a tunnel, because the world turned pitch black once again.
     Light returned and with it, Pierre found that he was no longer alone. At the opposite corner of the vehicle sat a young boy, no older than five, who was staring at him. His big brown eyes empty and lifeless.
     The boy sang, his voice sounding like whispers in a bone filled tomb,
          “Maman never came home that night
          The sun was gone and the cold did bite
          I walked up to the shadowy place
          There I found her resting by a case
          A big, red line ran a funny trail
          And her tender face was very pale
          In her eyes I saw a man
          And I shall find him if I can
         When I find him one bright day
          I’ll ask him why he took maman away…”
     As the final words left the boys lips, his eyes seemed to gain life as they watered up and tears rolled down his cheeks. He did not say another word, just sat and waited for Pierre’s reply.
     All colour had drained from the man’s face. His eyes widened when he realised that he was not breathing. His mouth wanted to open, but he was afraid, afraid of the words that would pour forth.  Finally, he could not bear it without air any longer.
     “I-I never meant to kill her!  I was drunk and--” He coughed as guilt finally broke out of the tiny corner of his chest he had buried it in.  “And I did not know what I was doing!”
The boy cocked his head, seeming almost curious if it were not for the grieved eyes and streams of tears.
~~~~~~~~~~
   At the back of the bus Océane cringed, 'Not doing poetry again, that was embarrassing...' her self-criticism was short-lived when she gasped as her chest tightened. She felt invisible chains surround her and pull at her, as though they were dragging her underwater, leaving her unable to breath. Her eyes wildly twitched in all directions as the whites were cut across by red veins. A powerful migraine struck at her skull and she hunched over, her arms across her stomach as all her effort went into maintaining her mental grip on Pierre.

<< Previous | Contents | Next >>

Episode Nineteen:
Rendezvous

<< Previous | Contents | Next >>

     Océane departed from school early, offering herself yet another chance to practice the power Claire had granted her when she met a teacher in the hall. She made herself look like the principle before his eyes. He nodded in acknowledgement to a non-existent face above her head.  
     Through the last day of experimentation, she was beginning to discover the limits of the gift. She could make someone see something that was not there, but she could not make herself invisible. A person’s brain notices that there is a figure before it. All she could do was distort that figure. Thus far, she was limited mostly to visual cues, but she was beginning to discover ways to manipulate perceptions of other sounds, like changing a kitten’s meow into a haunting cry.
     She did not even bother changing out of her uniform, it would suit her task. She looked at her watch. Claire had told her that Pierre Renoir would be off work at five o’clock on his way home. She had three hours and being in no hurry, she took a detour. There was something she wanted to remember, and there was a certain place which cradled that memory.
     When she turned the corner she beheld a street of some of the oldest and tightest packed homes in the city, built back in the pre-revolution era. Her gaze locked onto the third house on the left.
     The day she was last here came back to her so vivid it felt as if it was happening all over again.
     On a sunny summer day ten years ago, her mother held her hand, taking her to  a weekend ballet class as was their routine. She heard familiar laughter, the kind that made one think of spring and young life. She looked up, and saw the third story balcony. Little Océane halted, much to her mother’s surprise.
     “Qu'est-ce que c'est, cherie?” Her mother asked.
     Océane did not reply. She was too entranced. For the first time, she saw her, the blonde girl with whom all her dreams were shared.  At the age of seven, Océane realised that she was a copy. She had no dreams of her own, everything she was she had been inherited from the girl, twirling in a white dress, her curly blond tresses floating in the breeze.
    Young Océane smiled. Brunette and bland Océane had a secret with gracious Claire. She wanted to run and greet the girl that she had never met but already knew from their shared dreams. They were the best of friends, two halves that made a whole, though they never before had met in person.
     With one more spin, the girl twirled and brought herself to a halt, leaning on the steel railing of the balcony. Her wandering blue eyes locked with Océane’s and her smile brightened at the girl on the opposite street below her. Her mouth opened to call a greeting.
     Océane mouthed her name ‘Claire’, still trying to overcome her surprise. The next second would echo in her mind for years. The hollow, snapping sound of the railing joints breaking pierced the centre of Océane’s heart. The golden hair twirled beautifully as the girl tumbled from where she leaned like an angel cast from heaven.
     All of Océane senses went numb, she did not hear her mother gasp in horror, nor did she hear the noise of the girl’s body hitting the side-walk like a bag of flour. All she heard was the eternal snapping of the iron railing.
     She did not bid her body to move, but Océane found herself running out into the quiet street.  She did not see the white car hurtle around the corner and she felt no pain when the bumper slammed into her right leg, snapping her shin bone in three.  The next thing she knew she was tumbling through the air, like a cast aside doll, but eyes looked only at the white, beautiful folds of the dress and the fair girl who even in death lay in a graceful pose as she as her gown turned red.
     Océane lay on the pavement, feeling no pain for her eyes were glued on the girl who was surrounded by people, her father dashing out of the door letting out a heart wrenching howl of sorrow when he saw his broken daughter.
     Océane raised a broken and twisted hand, trying desperately to reach for the woven gold locks. She wanted to touch them, to feel the hair of her closest friend, the one who she had copied, to whom she had sacrificed all she was as a person, making herself into a mere, tarnished reflection of her brilliance. But the girl, like a star, was out of her reach, and soon her image blurred, robbing from her all that she found beautiful and Océane’s open eyes ceased to see the world, her ears oblivious to the screams of her desperate parents, the gasps and tears of onlookers, and the distant shriek of sirens.
     Océane shuddered in memory of the event.  It felt like some bad dream. Weeks later when she had been released from the hospital, her sight began to return, but the whole world looked tarnished. She would have preferred to have the last thing she saw be the angel that fell. In fear, she closed her mind, all dreams and nightmares vanished, in both reality and in sleep. She became a dull girl; the one who could never dance again, the girl who would pursue some meaningless career, who would vanish into the grey world so that when she died, her memory would never outshine the perfection of her broken angel.
     Later on, painting appealed to her, she would draw, still life, buildings, birds and plants, but never people. The worlds she made were always empty, devoid of life, save a haunting white figure concealed in the distant background or slightest reflection.
     A few years ago, the ghost of the girl she had stored in her mind had returned to her, reopened her heart to the dreams of others.
     Océane straightened her back, eyes no longer locked on the once bloodied side-walk, but looking ahead. 'Thank you, Claire, for this gift.  Tonight, I am going to tear down a maker of nightmares and give peace to a child, like you did for me.'  She wiped tears from her eyes before they fell. The heaviness in her heart vanished. The selfish vengeance had been replaced. She was no longer moving on to this righteous act out of anger or hatred, but out of duty and with a willing heart.
     She sighed.  'I am ready.'
~~~~~~~~~~
    Aleksei resisted the grievous temptation to tap his foot while the van idled, the passengers staring at the police blockade a hundred metres in front of them.  He felt some comfort that he was not the only person uneasy with the tense atmosphere. Anya, The Messenger, Evan, and even the as of yet nameless driver were all acting antsy. Whatever The Czech was supposed to do, he needed to do it fast, because they were all about to explode from the pressure if SICA did not get them first. In addition, Aleksei needed a chance to contact Mashka.
     He had been feeling uneasy ever since their hasty decision to leave her behind.  It was true that with her enhanced senses she could easily keep herself several steps ahead of anyone who might catch on to her, but that same power was slowly eating away at her.  Last night in Jack’s house, before they went to bed, Mashka confided with him about her power and how she could feel a consciousness that was not her own, clawing and whispering at her from within as it slowly gnawed on her self-control. Every time she used her powers, she found that she could pull herself back a fraction less than the time before.
     Hearing about such a strange experience, Aleksei decided to tell her about Nida, the Repha that resided within his inverse. He told her how he had to reconcile himself with that fragment of his soul in order to regain full control of his power. But unlike Aleksei, Mashka did not have a rational being within or a tranquil palace in the wooded mists. Instead she had a whirlwind of bestial destruction within a void.
     He gave the back of Evan’s head a look that he hoped would somehow convey his worry. He had not yet shared Mashka's secret with him, but he determined to have Mashka tell Evan later.
     Silently the seat and floor of the van in front and to the left of Aleksei turned into pools of scurrying blackness out of which emerged The Czech. Aleksei had never wanted to see this ability up close again, but at this proximity he could clearly see the strange effects. As the Czech pulled himself out of the void, the blackness seemed to flow off of him like a slime before vanishing into oblivion within a fraction of a second.
     Anya turned around.  “It took you long enough.”
     The Czech simply shrugged as he pulled his last arm out of the now tiny void through the seat.  Before his hand completely emerged, the blackness expanded once more as the blond Vladimir was pulled out by his coat.
     Once all the way in, Vlad flexed his neck a few times to loosen up, clearly displeased with his transportation he flopped down in a seat beside Aleksei, who was too shell-shocked to react with more than just a blank stare.
     Evan took a surprised double-take at Vladimir, who was the perfect copy of his brother. The only reason he could tell which was which was Aleksei’s dyed brown hair and different demeanour. Vladimir ignored his brother, seeming to not recognise him. Aleksei had to bear down on himself to avoid hyperventilating. His brother was right next to him, and far too many emotions were flowing through him at once.
    “So, big guy,” Anya began, address her Czech partner “We have a problem. That blockade up there has us trapped, what do you suggest?”
     “Just drive through them, I’ll take care of it.”
     “You do realise doing that is going to be hard to cover up?”
     “That’s the advantage of going against SICA.” The Czech reminded her. “Cover-up is on their dime.”
     Anya shrugged and turned to the driver. “Floor it, Dmitry.”  Inertia threw everyone but Anya back in their seats. Just before they reached the row of police vehicles, The Czech stood and braced himself against the van’s ceiling and floor.  Just as the nose of the vehicle touched the barrier, a black splat appeared upon the area that the van passed through.
     “Woohoo!” Anya cheered as they phased through the vehicles.  “Keep going Dem, we just got started!”
     Dem laughed nervously and kept his foot on the pedal.  Within moments they had come to the end of street and the only thing in front of them was a row of Gregorian residencies.
Unable to control himself, Aleksei let out a frightened yelp just before the van passed through the building, surrounding them in darkness.
     “Ok, Dem,” Anya began as she looked at her hand-held GPS display.  “Turn left once we pass through the next row of buildings, we should be in an alley.  Tech-devision scrambled the video feeds in that area, so SICA will not see where we go from there.”
     “Da, Miss Aho.”
     “Oh come now, call me Anya.” she muttered sultrily in the driver's ear.
    “Uh… sure… A-Anya.” Dem blushed nervously. “Here we go again.” he warned just moments before they phased into another residence.
     I think I’m going to be sick. Aleksei moaned inwardly as his stomach flipped over and tried not to get thrown into Vlad’s lap.
     Finally they found themselves in a wide alley and the driver slowed down, much to everyone’s relief, save Anya who seemed entirely unscathed by the experience. The Czech exhaled and sat down between the two boys, causing Aleksei to lean as far against the window as he could. Being on the same team was weird enough; he did not want to be hip to hip with that creep as well.
     A loud clanking noise caught everyone’s attention as a fire escape stairway lowered in front of them, off of which a woman leapt and signed for them to halt.
     “Stop!” Evan and Aleksei shouted in unison.
     The van parked beside where the woman stood as she put on her round lens sunglasses.  
     Evan hurriedly slid open the door. “Welcome aboard Mashka.”
     He was met by a rather peeved expression on the young woman’s face.  Her brown hair was a windblown mess barely contained below her large grey/blue scarf.
     Silently she stepped aboard and Evan made sure to scoot over to make room.
     “Oh, long time since we last met.” Anya noted casually.
    Mashka angled her face so she could glare at Anya with her golden cat-eyes. Anya provided her own haughty stare in exchange.
     After a few awkward seconds, Anya spoke again, “Well, get in, we don’t have all day.”
     Wordlessly Mashka boarded and sat next to Evan. She glanced back at Aleksei and gave a half-smile, and avoided eye contact with The Czech and Vlad.
     “So, how did you find us?” Evan inquired after they began moving again.
     “We will discuss that later and in detail.” Mashka replied testily.
   Evan half-chuckled knowing he would be on the receiving end of one of Mashka’s rare but unpleasant lectures, but she was safe.

<< Previous | Contents | Next >>

Episode Eighteen:
Cacophony

<< Previous | Contents | Next >>

     Mashka stopped just as she rounded the corner and beheld two police cars and several black vans. She stood still, uncertain of her next move. She did not like the idea of going against Evan’s orders, but both curiosity and an uncomfortable feeling in her chest ate at her. So now, finding those two had to be her first goal, and the ever-present pain in her hands, teeth and eyes reminding her that she had the resources to find them.
     'I need to be careful, but I must find out how far I can release and still be in control.'
     Her pain subsided slightly as she released her hold, the temptation to fully release was enormous.  Her power, it felt so good, while holding it under control caused constant pain. For a moment, she was going to just surrender to the euphoria of allowing that other creature take control, but at the last moment she halted the process. She opened her eyes, yellow, slit irises dilated to took in the entire crowd and her ears heard every breath. When a few black fatigue clad men emerged from the furthest van, she focussed in on them and their conversation.
     “Have the Scotland Yard been removed?”
     “Yes, the last two are leaving now. Our folks at the top are very accommodating. We can breech at will.”
     Mashka’s heart skipped. I have to get in there!
~~~~~~~~~~
     The glass doors of the bank shattered and the frames slammed open, followed by a swarm of black clad infantry. Their flash-lights pierced through the thick mist as they scattered and searched for any sign of their targets. They returned to the centre of the room, ignoring the cacophony of the bank patrons who believed themselves saved by the police.
     “No sign of them Captain.” One of them reported with a salute.
     The broad shouldered man he was addressing spoke with a soothing rasp, despite his irritated tone, “Then half of you tear this place apart and the other half help out our men at the perimeter.”  He spoke through his earpiece.  “Have any of you seen them?”  His body tensed as he heard no reply.
     Outside, in the alley beside the bank, four of the SICA agents lay limp; three of them face down on the cement, and one concealed in a skip, deaf to the radios buzzing in their ears.
~~~~~~~~~~
     Aleksei leaned heavily against the cold metal skip as he attempted to regain his breath.  He looked around at his companions; Evan, Anya, and the dark, hooded creature he remembered as being The Messenger, who had just joined them from some shadow along the way.
     I’m sure glad these people know what they are doing, otherwise we would be toast… at the same time, did we jump out of the frying pan and into the fire?  He gave an especially wary glance towards The Messenger having vague memories of their fight months back in Karelia.
     “W-what are we waiting for?” Aleksei asked.
     Anya responded with a hiss for his maintained silence as she looked cautiously out of the alley.
     “They’re here.”
     Though he was tempted to reiterate his question, Aleksei figured that the explosive redhead would not take kindly to being pressed.
     Anya directed her attention towards The Messenger.  “Can you sense anyone else’s presence.”
     A series of hisses and gurgles emitted from the hood that somehow formed into audible words.  “No, but that’s a large area, with many obstructions, I could easily miss something.”
     “That will have to do then.” Anya drew a gun she kept on her thigh and handed it to Evan. “Don’t misunderstand, I am still going to kill you, but right now, I’m low on competent help.”
     “Cheers.” Evan grunted as he accepted the weapon.
     Aleksei shuddered at how serious the woman sounded at the “kill” part.
     “You two, stay put.  We are going to circle around the van.”
     Aleksei found himself nodding in unison with The Messenger.
     Evan stared directly into Aleksei’s eyes. “Do not leave... his side, got that?  He’s the closest thing to protection you have.  And only use your power if absolutely necessary.”
     A moment later the two vanished around the corner and Aleksei was left alone with a former enemy.
     “What are you staring at?” The Messenger’s high pitch, hissing voice sounded perturbed.
Embarrassed Aleksei ceased his vigil of his new ‘partner’. A dull silence filled the space between them, even the rain came to a halt, leaving only the distant drone of sirens.
     Aleksei shifted uncomfortably.  “This-- is very odd.”
     The Messenger’s concealed head moved barely his direction, and then silently turned away, as if it agreed with the description.  
     The next break in silence was the sound of a few loud “pings” causing The Messenger to stiffen.
     Before Aleksei could ask, he received a bone chilling answer from his companion “Sssnipersss, in the direction of our ride.”
     Instinctively he raised his hand, ready to use all his strength to vaporize puddles and soaked pavement and bury the surrounding three blocks in impenetrable fog. A skinny hand firmly snatched his shoulder. He looked back and saw The Messenger shake its head warningly as it tightened its skeletal grip.
    “Thessse people aren’t asss benevolent asss usss, they will not tolerate sssuch sssloppinesssss that we did.”
     “Then what do I do?”
    Beneath the hood, The Messenger’s hidden mouth grinned, impressed with the boy’s impulsive determination. He was about to speak when the strangest expression clouded over Aleksei’s face.
    The youth’s face was paralysed, eyes frozen wide open, pupils fully dilated, and The Messenger’s felt the presence of another.
     The boy went limp and vapors began to pour  off of him, spreading rapidly as a thin sheet over the cobblestone and up the walls as the boy established his near invisible sensory web not of his own will. The Messenger shivered; this presence felt eerily familiar.  It leapt up to a nearby fire escape to watch its charge from a safe distance and drew its tranquillizer pistol, ready for a fight.
~~~~~~~~~~
     The two snipers had the square almost completely covered from their perch, each one facing down different streets looking intently at possible getaway vehicles. At the same time they each felt a chill and in an uncontrollable impulse fired their rifles, the shots echoing in the silence between them.
     "What was that? I could not stop myself!" the young red-redhead hissed.
     The veteran besides him removed his own hand from his trigger wondering how he had pre-maturely fired. He looked at his partner to confirm he was just as confused.
     The sound of giggling surprised them and they looked over their shoulders to to see a girl whose hair flowed like a golden river in a white dress like a heavenly bride.
     She ceased her giggles, “The pawns you hunt are mine. You have committed trespass against me.”  The girl’s beautiful face drew gaunt as her mouth widened and curved upwards, revealing a black void and her eyes vanished leaving behind dark chasms. “The pit craves your souls!”
     The marksmen let out throat ripping screams as their eyes rolled upwards and they lost consciousness due to the indescribable pain, falling into a hellish nightmare as their bodies writhed on the floor before the girl's feet. She looked at the twisting wisps of vapour in the window sill and nodded her approval at how useful Aleksei's power was in a pinch and then she herself faded as quick as she had appeared.
~~~~~~~~~~
     Aleksei blank eyes blinked, “The coast is clear…” he declared and looked at the Messenger.  “Why are you up there?”
      "Lasssst time you stared through me you sliced by stomach open."
     "How queer... I don't remember that. You must have met Nida."
     The Messenger cocked its head inquisitively. Before the dark creature could stop him, the youth hurried out into the open. "Let's go!"
     Aleksei spotted Evan and Anya and shouted.  “Come on!”  He ran towards the blue van, somehow knowing which vehicle was their ride.
     The Messenger waited, expecting a cloud of red mist to burst out the side of the boy's skull, but nothing happened, so he hastened to the van and was joined by Anya and Evan, both perplexed.
     After the side door of the van slid closed behind them, Anya turned to the front and ordered the driver to take off. Then she glared at Aleksei. “What us wrong with you?! You could have gotten us all killed!”
     Aleksei looked genuinely perplexed.  “But you said all was clear.”
     She raised an eyebrow then looked at the Messenger. “I didn’t say anything!”
     The Messenger shook its concealed head.
     “But I clearly remember--,” Aleksei’s face froze causing the Messenger to tense.
    The Apparition grinned at Aleksei in the side view mirror. He shifted his gaze towards the window next to him where she should have been standing, but there was no one there. In the mirror, The Apparition raised her finger to her lips and mouthed, “Thank you…”
   Aleksei decided that it would be wise just to keep silent, before he had everyone questioning his sanity.
     As they drove away, Evan asked.  “What about Ravi Donnelly, any word from Czech?”
     “Dániel and his team are taking care of him.” Anya answered.  
     Evan nodded, a sense of nostalgia running through him as he was once again a part of field work.
     They were all flung forward as the driver hit the brakes.
     “What’s the problem now?” Anya snapped.
     “There’s a police blockade.”
     Anya grumbled and hopped into the front seat.  “They acted faster than expected. Then again, I’ve never ‘robbed’ a bank before.” she slumped back in her seat and crossed her arms. “I guess this means plan C.”
     “What plan is that?” Evan asked.
     The Messenger gurgled slightly.  “Czech.”
~~~~~~~~~~
     Sighing in satisfaction, The Apparition twirled the skirt of her white dress as she walked away from the excitement. She intended on leaving to her next task but first she needed to assure herself all was going according to her design.  She raised her eyebrow at the sight of a man walking out of a store in front of her.
     “What is he doing here?” she wondered aloud.
     “Seems that I can hear you too.” Dr. Kerry said as he removed his hat and allowed his golden hair to dance in the breeze.
     The Apparition looked around to see if there was someone else he was talking too.  “How odd,” She muttered. “Normally only those whose eyes I open can see me. What’s your secret? I’m curious.”
     Dr. Kerry grinned wide, revealing a row of pure white teeth.
     The Apparition shrugged.  “Actually, I’m too busy to care right now, goodbye.”  
     He grinned wider.
     The Apparition’s eyes shifted in worry. Why am I not disappearing?
    “It seems my barrier is holding, delightful!” he cheered, his eyes and mouth wide open in a manic grin.
   Her gaze fell on the man’s electric blue irises, each having a black, interlaced triquetra design dominating centre where a pupil should be. “Where did you get those?” she demanded.  “The seven gifts are hidden from men such as you.”
     “I’ll tell you, but only after you are at my place.”
     The Apparition bared her teeth as she readied her metaphysical arsenal, but before she could so much as conjure a single phantom or horror, she found herself in a beautiful, aquamarine parlour, filled with sofas and cushions.  She could smell salty air blowing in through the sheer curtains through which could be seen a beach of pure white sand lined with palm trees.
     Looking down, she saw that she was standing on an oblong, cushioned pedestal.  Though she was once standing, she was now lying down, pulled flat to the bed, her arms, legs, waist and neck being pulled down tight by vine like ropes that grew out of the cushion below.  She could not move, but turned her head away from the window to her other side.  Right beside her was another bed with its own similarly bound prisoner, a man, whose withered feet rested before her face. She strained against the enchanted fabric bindings to look down towards his head. Despite the emaciated appearance, she could make out the once beautiful tell-tale looks and simplistic but dignified clothing design.
     “Repha!” she rasped as she strugged against her bonds.  “Impossible!”
~~~~~~~~~~
     The SICA captain’s radio buzzed in his ear.
     “Marshal here.” he answered.
     “Captain, we found Team Scarlet.  They were all unconscious and one of them was in the dumpster, naked.”
     Marshal ground his teeth. “We have to assume that one of us is an impostor, check everyone’s identifi--.” He froze when he felt the wet tip of a hand gun be pressed against the back of his skull.
     “Impostor you say?” Vlad smiled behind the concealing visor. “Call off those dogs you call men, now!” He felt the man gulp in terror and cock his head ever so slightly upwards.  Vlad knew fear well, and judging by the lack of satisfaction he was receiving, he realised that he was not the person causing his hostage’s fear.  
     On pure instinct he jerked nanoseconds before the back of the man’s skull sprayed a fountain of blood.  He felt the stinging aftershock of a high calibre bullet pass just over his shoulder followed immediately by a loud ‘ping’ on the cement behind him.
     “Kill the hostage eh?” he said, a hint of a smile on his lips, impressed by the dedication of SICA to kill all jinn, even if it meant shooting through one of their own. He ducked and rolled beneath a nearby van, after which he heard another bullet behind him.  He glanced around himself, at the tires and the gasoline tank. “Forget this!” A searing blast erupted from his hand.
     An explosion rocked the street and windows shattered in a deluge of glass as the van blew apart in a fiery blaze.  A needle of smoke and fire burst out of the top as Vladimir flew into the air.  He redirected himself with a blast of his hand towards a nearby rooftop. However he had sent himself at too steep of an angle and he slammed painfully into the shingles. He grit his teeth and rose, then ran across the roof to escape.
     Vladimir had only run a few paces when a small circle of the roof turned into a small black portal through which extended a calloused hand that snatched his ankle.  He fell forward, and fully expect a bloody nose and a black eye to follow but as he neared the roof, a section about his size turned into an inky void through which he passed as if it was water. He tumbled head over heels, landing on his back on a plush bed.  
     The Czech’s face appeared out of the wall mere centimetres from his own.  “Ready to get going?”
     “Too close!” Vlad declared as he sat up hurriedly, his head phasing through The Czech’s. Once the youth was again on his feet, the bald man offered his hand in front of him.
     “Do I have to?” there was almost a hint of a whine in the blonde’s voice.
     “If you want to live.”
     Reluctantly, Vlad grasped The Czech’s hand, his fair complexion contrasting with even paler skin of his rescuer.  “I take it that you have already gotten the subject moved.”
     The Czech’s silence implied an affirmative.  Then they were on the move, first phasing down through the floors and then running along the ground level, phasing through walls or floors as The Czech saw fit.
     The Czech’s radio buzzed in his ear and he nodded with a slight grunt in reply.  Vlad grimaced at his superior’s irritating habit of non-verbal “communication”.
~~~~~~~~~~
     Mashka skid to a halt on the wet rooftop at the sound of an explosion.  She looked back to see a bright glow from the banking district nearly a kilometre away. She almost dashed back, but reminded herself of the The Apparition’s words, urging her to leave the area, and that her brother and Evan were safe.
     But she felt unsettled.  Her brother was in the explosion, on instinct she knew it. She could see someone hurtling above the explosion. Sharpening her vision she saw her brother, but his un-dyed golden hair told her it was Vlad. She still wanted to run back to him, embrace her long missing sibling. But it was not the time, and she was certain as an Association agent, he was more than capable of taking care of himself.
      She resumed dashing across the rooftops, leaping with catlike grace over alleys.  Her senses were in full throttle as she tried to hear, smell or see any sign of Aleksei and Evan. She had just launched herself from one roof down to another, gathering her flowing skirt mid-leap to maintain modesty. She landed and a sharp pain in her chest that broke through the dull aching that had been plaguing her body since yesterday. She landed by mere reflex and bent over in pain, clawed hand clutching her face.
     I released too much.  I need to reign it back in a bit.
     It was painful for her to tame her body back. She felt an odd pleasure when she gave into her strengths, but pulling them back was agony. She had almost reached the end of her self-control. Feeling something move, she looked beside her at her shadow that was cast by the newly visible sun. A shiver ran down her spine as a part her shadow extended from her back, cast by an invisible being. It formed in the rough outline of a person, waist up as it extended its hands towards the back of her neck. Mashka watched in horror as her own hand moved and grabbed her throat tightly, strangling herself.
     Her other hand slowly crept up to her mouth as the head of the shadow from her back fractured, revealing a massive grin upon the shingles.  Suddenly the shadow’s mouth closed and the being vaporised. Mashka carefully extricated her fangs from where they had pierced her bleeding thumb. It was the only way she could think of to strengthen her resolve against her beast.
     She examined the hand to assure herself that it had begun to heal.  I’m going to have to be more careful.  My bite is much stronger than before.  
     She leapt to the next flat roof and halted. She felt them, a pair of malignant eyes gazing at her from somewhere. A shiver ran down her spine as she scanned her surroundings. Something about a building several streets away caught her eye.  She quickly enhanced her vision and realised there was a person in one of the windows. She improved her vision again and saw two golden glows from underneath a hood, staring right back into her own eyes. Then she saw whoever it was raise a long rifle right at her. In a burst of speed, she moved faster than she ever thought she had. She eliminated her enhanced senses and focused purely on stamina and strength as she flipped, ducked, spun, dove, from rooftop to rooftop.
     She dropped into an alley, landing on the thin ledge above a window and then leapt from there to a fire escape further down. Like a whirling dervish she flipped and tumbled from one foothold to another down alleyways. When she did leap up from between buildings, she had placed a row of taller edifices between herself and wherever the owner of those haunting eyes was. She hurried onward, hoping desperately to find her family.
~~~~~~~~~~
Over a kilometre away, the shadowed figure lowered the rifle and chuckled. She was more than he had ever imagined.

<< Previous | Contents | Next >>

Day Three: Jeudi
Thursday, September 22nd
 
The silent specters watch,
A silk web waits prepared.
The spider grins at her catch,
The helpless prey ensnared.

Episode Seventeen:
Heist

<< Previous | Contents | Next >>

     Evan started the car and waited for his charges to emerge from Jack’s home. Aleksei was first, trying to suppress a yawn as he stepped out into the rain. A stream of water spilled over out of the gutter and poured onto the back of his neck. He let out a startled cry, leapt forward and dashed into the car, fully awake.
     Then came Mashka, tailed by Jack.
     “Here, you may want an umbrella.” He offered, a cheeky grin on his face.
    Mashka could not deceive herself.  The young man obviously got his father’s attractive genes, but she was determined not to accept gifts, it would only make him more obnoxious.      “No thank you, the car is dry.”
     “You're going to be walking in the rain later.”
     “No, thank you.”
   "As you wish. Oh if I need to get a hold of my wayward father, might I have your number?”
     Mashka replied in monotone, “My phone is drifting somewhere at the bottom of the North Sea.”
     Jack blinked a moment, trying to figure if she was joking or not.  “Then, email perhaps?”
     “I don’t give private information to strangers.”
    He seemed wounded at her last statement. “I’m hardly a stranger, I’m your guardian’s son, we’re family!”
    Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Mashka tried to put a nail in the coffin of this conversation. “Not interested.”
      “What are you implying?” Jack looked almost shocked.
   Mashka wished her dangerous glare was not so well concealed behind her dark sunglasses.  To accommodate she lowered her voice into a sickeningly sweet tone.  “Goodbye, Jack.”  She flashed a quick smile, revealing her lengthened eye teeth for just a moment before she turned on her heel and hastened to the car.
      After they had gotten onto the road, Mashka glanced over at Evan.  “He takes after you, am I right?”
     Evan chuckled.  “To a ‘T’, I was just like him when I was that age-- ouch!”
     Mashka delicately laid her hands in her lap after punching Evan’s arm.
     “What was that for?”
     Mashka shot him an accusatory glare.
~~~~~~~~~~
     Océane sat quietly in the classroom.  The morning light glared in her eyes, but her mind was on what she would do that evening. All day she had been experimenting with the ‘gift’ Claire gave her on some of her classmates. Instead of only seeing their daydreams, she could force her classmates to see or hear things that were not there. She made the illusions brief, and thus far none of the students suspected they were being tampered with. She found it was easier to manipulate the minds of those in her class than other students at the school, it seemed she had to become used to how the person thought to an extent before being able to alter their perception. Throughout the day the process became more comfortable and expedient.  
     It energized her knowing that at any moment she could disrupt someone's personal reality. It also terrified her, the fact that such power could exist, and she knew it was an impossibility that she and Claire were unique. She mentally questioned how much Claire was manipulating her. Given how powerful the gift was, Océane was left to assume that Claire was much more powerful than she was letting on.
     Océane suspected that she was not communicating with the now deceased Claire who she dream walked with as a girl. This Claire was possibly someone else, who was using her childhood friend as a doorway to gain her trust. The thought was disturbing, but Océane did not feel frightened by it. ‘Claire’ had not done anything to harm her, yet, unless it was she who initiated her power in the first place and forced her to come into contact with other minds at a young age…
     The though was too astonishing and feasible that Océane had to stop herself and return her attention to the teacher’s lecture.  But, in the back of her mind she went over her actions after school, and how she would bring justice to Pierre Renoir.
     Her feelings of hate had subsided, replaced by a kind of exasperation. No matter what she did now, whoever the child of that woman was, he would never again feel a mother’s warm embrace, and nothing she could do would fix that. She was no longer going after Renoir out of wrath, but was out of solemn, grim duty.
     'Mother who I do not know… I would hope this will cause you to rest in peace, but I doubt you will, knowing your child is silently suffering somewhere in this city.  And no matter the punishment I inflict, your child’s tears will not dry.'
~~~~~~~~~~
     Rain poured down outside in torrents and even the thick walls of the East Street bank could not block out the sound of pattering rain. A dark, round faced man in his mid-thirties, glanced in his reflection in the window that looked out on the bank lobby. He pulled off his damp sweater then hastily combed his straight, brown hair into place with his hands, reforming it into its trendy but formal spiked style. He nodded in approval and put on a pair of rectangular black glasses over his wide, honey-coloured eyes that cancelled out the modern form of his hair and instead made him look studious and younger than his age.
He then practised his work smile a few times, switching between wide mouthed and toothy, and more subtle and professional. He settled on wide and toothy, he looked silly, but he felt it would make the customers feel at ease on this rainy day. Taking a deep sigh he put on his work mood and made his way behind his teller station, turned on the computer and straightened his tie with the name tag which read ‘Ravi Donnelly’.
     “And now ready for another day,” he declared happily to himself
     The clock struck nine and the doors unlocked as the first customers entered.
     An elderly woman made a beeline towards his station and sat in the chair on the other side of the desk from him.  “Oh, I get the cute one today.”  she smiled warmly.
     He laughed cheerfully, “Good morning Mrs. Olawale.”
     “And good morning to you too, Ravi.” She grinned wide, her pearly dentures contrasting with her coffee skin.
     Ravi liked this particular customer, she always had something nice to say and annually for the four years he had worked there, she had given him a card on his birthday, as if he was her own grandson. Most of all it was her cheerful smile that bloomed upon her wizened face that he loved the most, and it never failed to leave him in a good mood the rest of the day.
      “So how may I help you today madam?”
     “Oh well, I just need to deposit a cheque from my son.” she fished in her purse and pulled out the blue rectangular slip. “He just earned another acting job down in London, but he says he can’t tell me what it is yet. He is going to be out of country for a while.” Her face briefly betrayed a hint of sadness.
     Ravi knew all too well how lonely the woman was, her husband had died several years ago and all her children were elsewhere living their own lives. He snatched the balance sheet and handed it to Mrs. Olawale.  “There you go madam, is there anything else I can help you with?”
     “You could put me at ease and get a lady friend.”
     Ravi slumped forward comically.  'Here we go again…'  This was the one side of being an honorary grandson he was less than enthusiastic about.
     “I worry about you, all alone in that house of yours.” She insisted.  “I mean, what if something happened and no one was around to help you?” She made a furtive glance downwards.
     Ravi smiled at her concern over his condition.  “Thank you Mrs. Olawale, but, I’m afraid I’m one of those solo types.”
      “Well, if you ever change your mind, I know a few young ladies who would be happy to take you. It’s hard to find a sweet chap like you in this day and age, with all things of this world going on.” Mrs. Olawale muttered.
     As usual, the two of them went off on a tangent of local and global affairs, with Mrs. Olawale doing most of the talking with many exclamations and disapproving tongue clicks. After an invitation over for dinner, which Ravi could never reject, and a question if he needing anything that week, to which he answered with a few household odds and ends and then handed her some money and a brief list, thanking her. The lady took her leave after giving him a motherly embrace.
     Ravi shook his head sadly as she left the door.  “I’ll miss you, old fr-.” He muttered.
     The banks lights snapped off.
    His gaze swerved through the bank lobby.  In the dimmed room he spotted a woman, face covered by an expressionless white and black chequered theatre mask, and wearing all black. She raised her gun straight at him and fired.
     Customers and staff screamed in terror.
~~~~~~~~~~
     Aleksei emitted a low whistle as he climbed out of their silver sedan into the drenching rain and looked through the iron bars of the gate. He beheld in awe the whitewashed two story mansion.  “That’s no dasha…”
     Mashka nodded in agreement, however Evan looked unimpressed. "It's no cottage, you're right, but something is a little off."
     “Why is that?” Mashka asked.
     “Isn’t the building a wee bit on the plain side? And it's in the midst of a middle class street.”
     “What do you mean? Edinburg properties are expensive.” Aleksei reasoned.
     “Well, yes, but this would be reason for someone with a few million, but Ravi Donnelly is worth billions, and this is his main house?  Seems a little… understated.”
     Aleksei took a closer look and he was inclined to agree. The garden was modest in size and did not have anything exotic, just the same plants as any other suburb, and it was not groomed beyond average. There was a lack of statuary and the building itself was of bland design. Even the curtains in the windows declared that they had been bought at a discount store.
     “Perhaps he likes to be frugal?” Mashka suggested.
     “I suppose so…” Evan muttered unsurely. "Speaking of frugal, here are your temp phones." He retrieved two flip phones from his coat pocket and handed them to his charges.  "I have our contacts already saved, we must dispose of them when we are done with this Donnelly business."
     Aleksei leaned on the gate which suddenly swung forward causing him to overbalance and tumble to the grey stone path. “Ow! Care to warn me when you open the gate!” He cautiously lifted himself up, feeling a bruise appear on his hip.
     “I didn’t open it.” Evan insisted.
     Mashka glanced at the gate, “It was never closed, see.”  She pulled the gate back together and it swung loose when she released.
     “No, it is locked,” Evan corrected. “the bolt was cut through.”
    The three looked at each other, confirming one another’s thoughts as they dashed towards the door of the mansion.  On sight of the ajar door, they all felt an uneasy weight in their stomachs.
     Mashka carefully released her power just enough to enhance her hearing.  She heard only one person, a woman, wheezing on the floor. Without any other heed, she hastened up to the porch and entered the house, Aleksei and Evan hissing out caution. She waved at them to signal all was fine.
     “The scent is cool." She declared, "whoever broke in has come and gone.” She followed the noise into the living room where an elderly Indian woman lay on the floor, a nasty, swelling bruise covered the left side of her forehead.
     Mashka dropped down beside the woman.  “Are you alright?”
     The woman groaned in pain.
     “I’ll call for an ambulance.” Aleksei declared, drawing his cell.
     The woman pointed to the phone on the coffee table by a window. All three of her rescuers sighed in relief that she could still move and hear.
     Mashka placed a comforting hand on the woman’s cheek. “Listen, madam, help is coming, but we need to find Ravi Donnelly, he might be in danger.”
     “Pl-please… he’s at work… the bank…”
     “Did people come here to find that out?”
     “N-no, they came here to open the safe…” the woman started to cry, “They wanted the passwords to his bank accounts, they are going to take everything from him!” she sobbed in distress at her employer’s fate.
     “The ambulance is on its way,” Aleksei announced.
     The woman looked uncertainly at them.  “I don’t know who you are, but please warn him, he’s at the bank at the end of the street, and around the corner, hurry!”
     The three of them hesitated, not wanting to leave the injured woman behind.
     “I’ll stay here and call him,” Mashka offered, retrieving her cellular.
     Evan nodded. “Let’s go Aleksei! And Mashka, when the ambulance arrives, I want you to leave the scene as soon as possible, but stay nearby. If we aren’t back soon and don’t call your burner cell, just lay low.
     With no more than one more glance back at the door, the two men hurried out and ran down the sidewalk. The thundering rain soaking them.
     “Aleksei, I need you to be very careful.”  Evan instructed.
     “I intended on being careful.”
     “Be especially cautious this time. We are not dealing with the Association any more.”
     “How do you know that? I mean, besides the fact you were one of them.”
     “Simple, the safe.”
     “Safe?” Aleksei looked thoroughly confused.
     “The Association is a lot of things, but it has never been an organisation of thieves.  We, I mean, it always generated its own wealth. No, this was SICA, they take pride in not being 'wasteful'.  If they are going to kill a Jinn, they might as well take advantage of their assets.”
     Aleksei’s face twisted in disgust, however, his disgust did not have much time to fester as they rounded the corner and spotted a crowd in front of the bank.  The sounds of sirens filled the air as the first few Scotland Yard vehicles arrived on the scene.
     “Bank robbery? Now of all times?!” Aleksei exclaimed. “SICA doesn’t mind getting their hands dirty.”
     “No, this would be the Association,” Evan corrected matter-of-factly.
     Aleksei grit his teeth then snapped back, “Make up your mind will you!?  Is it SICA or the Association we are dealing with?”
     “The bank robbery is just a façade the Association is using to kidnap their target, assuming this is not a coincidence. If it were up to Sentinel they would just snipe their target any time they…” Evan’s heart began to race as he started to put the pieces together. “A setup…”
     “What?”
     “Come on!” Evan grabbed Aleksei’s shoulder and tugged until he followed willingly back up the block and into an alley.  He looked up at the forgotten clothesline with a soaked white sheet hanging on it. Evan raised his open palm towards the strings, the air rippled and inclined his fingers upwards then flipped his hand forward and back in two chops.  The lines snapped and the freed sheet fluttered down with the rain.
     Grabbing it Evan explained.  “For camouflage, we are landing on the roof.”
     Despite his fear of heights, Aleksei flung his arms tightly over Evan’s shoulders. Now was not the time for petty phobias.
     Evan flung the large sheet around them and took off.
      From the sudden burst of speed Aleksei could feel his blood rush to his feet and it took all his might just to concentrate on hanging on.  He made the mistake of looking down between the fluttering edges of the sheet.  Besides the sudden fluttering of his heart and the dawning nausea, he also noticed a single, black clad figure on the roof. Feeling Evan's shoulder's stiffen he knew his ride had seen as well, and when their descent began, Aleksei prepared himself to follow Evan’s lead.
~~~~~~~~~~
     The agent tapped his foot impatiently.  What’s taking them so long, this “bank robbery” is going to fall to pieces if we hold out much longer.  He glanced at the grey sky again and squinted.
     Like a meteorite a white mass hit the roof just a few metres from where the agent stood.  "Kakogo che-?!" his voice cut off a whet linen sheet enveloped him.
     Aleksei broke away from Evan and rushed into the blind spot.  Before the man could even remove the sheet from his sight Aleksei had brought his shin into his diaphragm.
     Aleksei muttered a quick apology in Russian in a strange sense of camaraderie with a fellow countryman he had just assaulted. As he recovered from his feelings of vertigo he followed Evan’s lead to one of the glass A-frame skylights. They peeked down at the situation below.  The bankers and customers were all huddled against one side of the lobby, on the other side, a figure in black standing in front of a man with his hands raised in surrender.
     Nudging Evan for his attention, Aleksei gave him the ‘what now?’ look.
~~~~~~~~~~
     George looked at the pink tuft tranquilizer dart sticking out of his shoulder.  He grabbed and ripped it out, glaring defiantly at the masked woman.
     She cocked her checker masked face in curiosity.  “Oh, I like this one.”  She raised her second weapon.  “Unfortunately, I have more where that came from.”  She began to squeeze the trigger.  Her face scrunched up.  Jammed?  She glanced up at George, who had his hand placed in front of him as if he was holding an invisible handgun.  She watched as his trigger finger straightened, moving hers along with it.  He moved his arm to the side, forcing her to do likewise.
     His legs jerked a moment and he rose from behind his work desk.  He opened his hand and her weapon dropped.
     “A little help here!” she shouted.
     One of her partners, a bent over figure cocked his gun.
     George shook his head discouragingly and raised his right hand and pointed an invisible gun at his temple.
     The woman realised he had forced her to draw the PSS silent pistol she kept on her leg and now the barrel was making a circular indent on her temple.
     “I suggest you don’t do anything and wait for the Scotland Yard.  It would be good for your health miss.”
     He brought up his other hand and made her remove mask, the chequered face clattered on the floor and her short red hair tumbled into view.
    “You are quite a lovely woman, you could have gotten my attention with more subtlety.” George looked pityingly.
    Anya rolled her eyes.  “And here I thought I would like you.  You are just another Scot who thinks he’s charming.”
     “You are Russian?”
   She raised her eyebrow curiously, she was pretty certain she was using her London accent at the moment.
     “We have immigrant services here, you could have made a wonderful life for yourself, and here you are wasting it.”
     Anya’s face fell and her eyes watered, producing a face any actress would train years to attain. She felt George’s hold weaken. Against the resistance of her own muscles she snatched an oblong round object and dropped it on the ground.
    George’s eyes widened at the sight of the grenade and in his surprise he lost concentration and his legs buckled beneath him, leaving him helpless as he collapsed to the ground. He closed his eyes awaiting the explosion as others in the bank scrambled for cover.
     “Psych!” Anya declared, then bent over and whispered. “If you come with us, all of this will end without any casualties, agreed?”
     George nodded.
     Anya glanced upwards at her two partners, giving a signal.  They nodded.
   Suddenly glass shattered as a small object smashed through the second story office window that overlooked the lobby trailed by a white, billowing cloud.
    Smoke bomb, Anya glared in irritation as the cloud enveloped the room, sending the patrons and staff into more chaos, a few of them cheered, believing rescuers had arrived, but most screamed.
    Anya heard someone approaching from behind.  Swinging her right arm back, gun in hand she prepared to kill whoever had interrupted their mission.  However her hand arm by a firm grip and she found herself face to face with Evan.
      “Long time no see.” Evan grinned.
      Anya’s testy reply matched her expression. “Oh, I am going to kill you.”
     With skillful grace Evan relieved her of her firearm and twisted her wrist held it behind her, pressing her own weapon against the middle of her back. “Not today you aren’t.” Evan’s face was close enough to her ear that he heard the muffled voice of The Czech through her ear bud.
     “We have guests.”
    “What kind of guests?” Anya seemed to ignore Evan’s presence for a moment, confident that he would not harm her.
    “I think you know who.” The Czech’s rolling eyes could be heard through the speaker.  “Oh, and greetings Evan, we were told you might show up.”
   “It seems everything we are up to is on broadcast lately.”Evan’s shoulders fell in exasperation as he wondered if it was The Apparition who was tipping people off or whether it was just The Administrator’s intellect.
    “Ok, Aleksei,” Evan spoke softly.  “Move the smoke screen to the parameters of the building, keep the civilians in the mist.”
     “Roger that.” Aleksei replied.
    The fog evacuated the centre of the room like water travelling in rewind out of a drain and compressed to the edges, covering all it touched in a heavy dew.
    When the fog receded Anya found that the blonde youth had been standing a mere two metres in front of her the whole time and just as if he passed through a white wall he fully emerged from the retreating mist. He raised his hand and waved, leaving transparent wisps of mist floating in the air that continuously drifted off his body.  “Greetings, what is this all about?”

<< Previous | Contents | Next >>

Episode Sixteen
Every Coin Has Two Sides

<< Previous | Contents | Next >>

    For Mashka to call herself merely stunned would be an understatement of gross dimension.  She was trying to ingest the idea that Evan was a father, and his son was older than her by over a year as she looked on dumbstruck as the two men caught up on times past.
     “E-Evan…”
    “Hmm?  What Tatiana?” Evan replied, being certain to cue Mashka to use her fake name.
     “I think we… I think I‘ll excuse myself for a moment.  Check up on Nikita,” She slowly rose and made her way towards the door.
     Jack looked at his dad giving a sideways grin.  “So, dating younger ladies now?”
     Evan sighed.  “I’m looking after her and her brother until their parents can immigrate.”
     “Ah, so "friends," but you have to have some benefits..."
     "Jack-" Evan chided.
     "Then why haven’t you just come and see me if you’ve been in Scotland all this time?”
     “I would have... but things got complicated.  Besides, I didn’t know whether you would like to see me that much.”
     “Really?  Evan, I would always be happy to see you.  Yeah you dropped off the map for a few years but I assumed it was just something involving your work.”
     Evan took another sip of his cold beer, and stared into the distance thoughtfully for a moment.  Guilt ate at him due to the tone of acceptance in his own flesh and blood's voice.  Jack knew he was a lesser priority.  “How is Gramps doing?” Evan asked, hoping to change the topic.
     “The old chap is doing well, it’s a chore to make sure he takes the medication, but I’m handling it somehow.  Besides that, he does more to take care of me than vice versa.”  Jack looked back towards the door.  “You should probably follow her.  In 'lass-speak' she was telling you earlier that she wanted to talk.”
     “And what makes you an authority on the subject?” Evan asked.
     Jack rolled his eyes, “I’m not the least popular guy in Edinburgh you know.”
     Evan rolled his eyes at his son. “We'll have stuff to talk about.” he said warmly with a pat on the shoulder, then he hurried outdoors.
~~~~~~~~~~
     The dark alley erupted as if from a silent bomb blast.  Dense, evaporated rain rushed through the network of alleys and shot up from between the buildings like a Maltese-cross-shaped geyser and tumbled into the streets and over rooftops.  The Messenger lost its grip of Aleksei in the blast, and sheltered itself, being weary that the Jinn could use the vapour as both sight and as a blade as he had back in Russia.  The world vanished into a grey void.
    Aleksei emerged from the billowing fog and dashed down the street, glancing over his shoulder to see if he was being followed.
     Within the fog, The Messenger sighed as it felt his way to a fire escape ladder and with cat-like speed it climbed up to the roof of the building and felt relieved to be back in clear air. It calmed its breathing and watch the vapours blow away in the wind.  “So the foolish ash raises his hand against the red earth giant.”  The Messenger smiled.  He vanished from the roof and sped as a mere black wisp across the rooftops.
 ~~~~~~~~~~
     Evan emerged from within the bar to be encountered by pouring rain, a shivering Mashka and an exhausted Aleksei huddling under the pub‘s canopy.  “What’s wrong?”
Aleksei gasped heavily as he replied, “The… Association… they are… here in Edinburgh.”
Evan raised his hand to his face in frustration.  “That’s perfect! Traffickers, manipulative ghosts, and now The Association, this day couldn’t get better!”
     “It gets worse,” Aleksei continued.  “Vladimir, our brother, is with them, and he’s Anya’s partner.”
     “Anya…" Evan seemed shocked to utter that name again,  "...is here?”
     “Yes, she is and they seem to be fighting another secret agency, they called it SICA.”
     The siblings felt even more nervous at Evan reaction to Aleksei’s latter statement.  “Are you certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that they said “SICA”?  You didn’t mishear?”
     Aleksei thought carefully for a moment, reliving the gruesome scene.  “Y-yes, I’m positive, they said “SICA”.  What’s the issue?”
     “Let me put it this way.” Evan pushed up his glasses, a gesture the siblings usually took as he was going into serious mode.  “SICA is to NATO what The Association is to the former USSR; and the former makes the latter seem like philanthropists.  Their method of solving the ‘Jinn issue’ is to kill them, rather than have them become pawns to the enemies of the West.”
     A stunned pause fell on the Sharovs.
     “So what do we-?” Mashka fell silent as she caught sight of Jack emerging from the bar.
    “Hey, lads,” Jack greeted casually.  “What’s with the glum faces, you look like you swallowed a bee each.”
     The three looked at each other and then back at Jack.
     Evan spoke up first.  “Jack, wait out here, get acquainted.  I’m going to finish getting the information we came for.”
     The three younger persons glanced at one another in silence, trying to figure out who was supposed to introduce who.
      “So, Tatiana was it?  Have any plans this weekend?” Jack asked giving a knock out grin, which rapidly disappeared before both siblings’ withering stares.
 ~~~~~~~~~~
     The Czech, Vlad and Anya entered the florescent lit warehouse outside the bustling night-life of Leith.  They walked down the aisle between the empty metal shelves towards the office-turned-temporary-headquarters.  The three of them simultaneously made a disdainful side glance at the approaching Dr. Kerry.  Despite all their differences they still found the same man most aggravating.
     “Oh welcome back!” Kerry exclaimed all too cheerily and high pitched for anyone’s comfort.  “I hope all things went well.”  The obvious insincerity of his voice made the corner of each of their mouths to twitch with angry unison.  They kept walking, attempting to ignore him, hoping to reach their fellow sympathetic, Bruno.
     “Oh and dear Vladimir,” The man raised a slender hand to rest on Vlad’s shoulder.
Vlad raised his eyebrow at the overtly familiar gesture, and heated the air just above his shoulder.
     Kerry‘s feminine “Ouch!” echoed.  “You’re so mean, I was just--” his voice was cut off by Vlad’s look of 'I-dare-you-to-get-close-again.'
     Kerry wisely changed the topic.  “The boss is on video call, he’s been waiting patiently, but you all took a long time coming here... and where’s the creepy one what’s-his-face?”
     “On surveillance, it’s what The Messenger does best.”  Anya’s voice had an odd sharpness, as if she was defending a compatriot against an insulting outsider.
     Kerry waved off the trio’s unanimously unspoken sentiments of dislike with a flick of his blond tresses.
     Entering the office they were confronted by the impatient gaze of the large, scruffy German, his tattooed, muscle-bound arms folded in front of him, his finger tapping on his bicep.  He wordlessly nodded to the screen.
     The three stood in front of the monitor of Bruno’s computer and a video of the Administrator in his office.  He was dressed in his suite, but the tie was absent and the top few buttons were undone of his dress shirt.
     He smiled warmly, and though his subordinates would never admit it, their boss’s smiles always made them feel a strange warmth in their chest, as if meeting with an old friend.
    “You look lovely Anya, red is definitely your colour.”  the older man grinned, spreading out his well trimmed facial hair and revealing equally white teeth.  “It was a good investment to update your wardrobe, very flattering.”
     Vlad pulled a face but stopped himself from gagging.
     Anya grinned back and replied with a hint of sultry in her voice.  “You should lose the tie permanently, makes you seem more up to date and attractive.”
     Vlad muffled a gag.
     “Oh Anya, you know how to make an old man seem young again.  Very well, but only for you, duscha.”
     Vlad not-so-quietly retched.  Thankfully for him, the flirtatious banter did not continue.
     “Now, on to business.”  The Administrator sat up straight and put on a emotionless face.  “You three have succeeded in raising gam, and without much to show for it.  It disappoints me.”
     The Czech responded matter-of-factly, “We have not come any closer to the subject, true, but we have greatly hindered the enemy--”
     Vlad spoke up rashly, cutting off his superior.  “What we have done is turn Edinburgh into a war zone. The authorities are edgy and our mobility is becoming more and more difficult. SICA just has too many people crawling all over the place and they keep cornering us, intentionally or not.  I’m fine with chasing down people, but I really don’t like it when the game turns around.  So how long are we going to be playing this little game?”
     “Good question,” The Administrator turned his gaze towards Bruno.  “Did you plug the leak?”
     "I am in the process, the bait has been taken.”
   “You will not need to worry further, I will take care of the leak myself.” The Administrator’s gaze shifted slightly to the left, looking at something beyond his computer. Returning his attention to the screen he smiled, “In the meantime, I want you to head uptown, there is someone who can lead you straight to the subject. She is a reliable source, so don’t worry.  But please, disguise yourselves, you have all become noticeable.”
     “No one in SICA has seen me yet, I could go.” Kerry offered.
     A very brief, bemused smile touched the Administrator’s lips, but it vanished as he replied. “Niet, I need you to stay here, keep researching that lead. Maybe some other time.”
Kerry seemed only a little disappointed with the decision, quickly recovering.  “Right away sir!”  He declared in an obnoxious singsong voice.
    The Administrator’s eyes roved through his group. “I’m counting on you all, and I apologise for the lack of direction. It’s only temporary, I promise.” His image blinked off the screen.
     “This isn’t good.” Anya said aloud.
     “What?” Vlad asked, “Besides the other ninty-five percent of our working conditions?”
    “The Administrator never apologises, even when the two of u--”  She cut herself off, receiving suspicious stares from the others.  “I mean, it’s just not in his character to feel sorry, something is really bothering him.”
     “Yes,” The Czech agreed.  “and it’s not something small.”
     After the three reloaded on spare ammunition they left.  As he drove, the Czech reflected on the Administrator’s face. There was only one thing in the world that would bother his long time employer that much, and it was the one thing he knew about his boss that Anya did not. For the first time in a very long time, the Czech felt something that might vaguely resemble worry.
~~~~~~~~~~
     Jack opened the door for Evan and the siblings.  “Welcome to my pad!  Grandpa is with my aunt for the weekend, so we’ve got the place to ourselves.  So charades? Movie? Take your pick!”
     “We are here to sleep, nothing else.” Mashka said politely with a smile that told Jack she meant business. “However, thank you for your hospitality.”
     He excused himself to the kitchen. 'What’s up with her?  She gives me the willies and then she thanks me so nicely? And that sexy Russian accent just makes the two acts all the more extreme.' He was actually relieved they were going straight to bed, otherwise he didn’t know how long he could put up with the bipolar woman.
     In the spare bedroom, Evan caught Mashka and Aleksei up to what he had learned. “After showing a few pounds to the bartender he told me he did know of a George Donnelly. He now goes by the name of Ravi Donnelly, and has been overseas for the last few months and just got back. Apparently he’s an urban real estate tycoon with a net worth in the tens of millions.”
     Aleksei’s eyes widened a little. “Then how do we get to that kind of guy?"
     “Well, he’s not exactly a celebrity.  He maintains a low profile and has not been involved in any financial scandals, so we just might be able to walk up to him.  Even better, he lives close by.”
     “This bartender is getting creepy.” Mashka butted in.
     “Relax, he knew which bank Donnelly uses judging by his debit card. Also, another small detail about him…”
     Several minutes later, down in the living room, Jack began to wonder when his father would finish saying good night.  He sighed and walked up the stairs but he stopped short of the guestroom door when he heard his father whispering something, followed by Nikita. Despite that they were speaking in Russian, he could tell it was not a conversation. He peeked in, surprised to see three bowed heads and six clasped hands. When he heard “Amen” he ducked back behind the wall, not wanted to seem like he was spying.  His guests continued speaking in Russian, then they bid one another goodnight and Evan emerged from the room.
     “Aye Jack, you wouldn’t happen to have some milk on hand would you?”
     “Of course, and I prepared the sofa for you.”
     In the small, pastel yellow kitchen Evan poured himself a glass of milk and placed it in the microwave, setting the timer.
    Jack raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Warm milk, really?  You have been tamed!  Whatever happened to a stiff drink?”
     Evan chuckled weakly.  “Alcohol does not agree with me like it once did, besides, Tatiana only allows low proof vodka and light wine in the house, she’s not fond of alcohol breath.”
     “Old man…” Jack rolled his eyes. “So much for being their guardian.  Besides, are not they both adults? Why are they still living off of you?”
      “It’s complicated…”
     “Augh! You use that answer far too often.”
     “Let’s just say they have nowhere to go.”
     “And you need them too.” Jack concluded.
     Evan shook his head.  “No, it’s not like that, I’m not picking them over you, they, I should say ‘we’, left Russia having made few friends and far too many enemies.”
     Jack smiled. "Now this is getting interesting. So what are they? Witnesses? Children of a defeated mafia boss?”
     “About as exciting but not quite the same. I can’t tell you without consulting them and I would not want to put you in danger.”
     “Ok, I hear you Evan, I will be as silent as the grave.”
     Evan rubbed his son’s shoulder proudly. “Thanks, I hope next time I can pay you back the favour, and depending on how the next few days play out, maybe we could get together more often and in a less covert matter.”
     “Something’s going on with your ‘work’, right?” Jack received the same cock-eyed smile that he had inherited in reply, telling him that Evan was not going to say anything else about it.  He wisely decided not to pry so changed the subject.  “So, anything you can tell me about them, like maybe what are the lassie’s hobbies?”
     Evan chuckled at his precocious offspring.  “I think I better keep my lips sealed there, Tatiana is going through a tough time right now, I don’t think she needs additional complications.”
    Jack’s face fell. “Rats, and she’s such a belle too. Unusual eyes, kind of an emerald green.”
     Evan almost corrected him that her eyes were blue, but he caught himself remembering the changes going through her body at the moment.  He missed her old eyes, the ones that reminded him of summer dusk.
     Parent and child leaned on the counter, the son staring blankly at the yellow cabinetry and the father staring at the grey living room carpet surrounded by the deep red easy chair, sofa, and Ottoman.
     “You pray now…” Jack stated flatly like a research fact.
     “Not really, they pray, I just join.” Jack’s head turned slightly at the somewhat guilty tone of his father.  “They desperately want my soul saved, just shows how much they care. Still, I kind of wish I was as childish as them, their faith has gotten them through thick and thin, and in a way, even I feed off of their intangible confidence. It’s something to admire in them.”
     “Must be tough, pretending all the time, in particular when they see through your façade.”
      Evan smiled.
~~~~~~~~~~
    Row after row of beautiful houses, gardens, and parks stretched out in Alexandria, Virginia, a wealthy city containing expansive suburbs, contrasting with the nearby, less prosperous District of Columbia.
     On one side of the green, manicured backyards, behind a large picturesque house, a man threw back the rubbery foam football to his spunky, dark haired son. The boy ran and leapt in an attempt to snatched the ball but stumbled and landed on the grass.
     “Oh!” The man exclaimed, his classically attractive face furrowing in concern.  “Come on Li, you can get up!”
     The boy sniffed, put on a determined face and rose, throwing the ball back straight and true, smiling because his dad had to leap to get it.
     “Victor!” his wife called. “There is a call for you.”
     “Yeah, thanks Ming,” Victor gave a one minute sign to the young boy and hurried over to his wife.
     “It’s from Mr. Carlyle,” she explained.
    Her husband’s grin twitched a little, but he accepted the cordless phone calmly and waved the small woman off affectionately as he walked to the corner of the patio and sat down.
     Though he maintained a relaxed expression the edge in his voice could have cut ice. “I thought I told you no calls today.”
     “Sorry,” Carlyle’s voice was urgent, “The agents we sent to England, a third of them have been...”
     “Killed?” Carlyle’s nervous pause answered for itself. “That is surprising. Usually the old fellow is more of a gentleman. We were playing this game tamely, no casualties, a few meagre shots fired, nothing more. What changed his approach?”
     “Three days ago, some of our own men acted unusually. They opened fire when they shouldn’t have.  Two civilians and an Associate were killed. We took the agents off duty, but the damage was done and The Association reacted with killing SICA agents on site rather than following the catch-interrogate-release procedure.”
     “And what about the agents who started this?”
     “The agents in questions all claim to not remember the incident. We polygraphed them, and they passed.”
     “There may be an abnormal involved.”
     “Maybe, but it’s not one of The Association’s. Before they cut contact with us, they seemed just as surprised as we are about the incident.”
     “Like Tbilisi all over again.” Victor mumbled.  
     “We need reinforcements. The Administrator has his best working here, and he brought along a new agent, an abnormal named Vlad. I’m emailing his M.O. to you.”
    Victor considered the situation calmly.  “I’m tempted to think it was a mistake stepping on The Association’s territory, it might have been too soon. The Administrator has stubbornly guarded Europe and the Middle East, allowing us free range of Africa and the Americas. But since we started the incursion, it’s time to end the games. I’m sending Nebuchadnezzar3 to assist, and perhaps Nyra, she’s always helpful in a pinch and works well with Nezzar.”
     “You sure, sir?  Don’t you need them looking for the targets on the West Coast?”
    “Relax Carlyle, I still have plenty of staff in those areas.  And Nyra would be very irritated if she knew you didn't want her.”
     Carlyle laughed nervously.
     “Oh, and one more thing, I know it might be a long shot, but take care of that lead we received from White Crow.  It’s time for us to pull a fast one on the old man as well.” Victor hung up before Carlyle had a chance to bid his polite farewell. He wanted to be sure that his subordinate knew that he was displeased with the interruption over something that could have been talked about later. Europe was not at the top of his priority list.
     However, he could not yet go back to his pleasant evening with his family.  That man, the Administrator, was an irritation.  He thought he had taken care of the last of the opposing agencies after collapsing both China's Great Tomorrow Project and the Russian Association from the inside. However, the old man simply used the collapses as a way to rid himself of the fellow bureaucrats at the cost of the sweeping influence the former Soviet project once held over the whole world, while NATO’s shadow organisation, SICA crawled behind.
     'It makes little difference now,' he thought smugly. 'Nezzar and Nyra will be more than he can handle.  This will be the first time he sees my fangs.'

<< Previous | Contents | Next >>